


Eggs Marks the Spot

by Chaifootsteps



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Alien Biology, Eggpreg, Eggs, Other, They/them skekLach, egg puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaifootsteps/pseuds/Chaifootsteps
Summary: My half of an art trade a while back.Warning: Egg.
Relationships: skekLach/skekOk (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Eggs Marks the Spot

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to egg.

“Oh, stop milking it, skekOk,” they'd said when he first started to voice his complaints.

But he _wasn't!_

“We know it's not that bad. You're not the first one to carry.”

But he _was_ among the smallest! And, as he'd so adamantly told them time and time again, this clutch promised to be truly _massive_. He could feel it, the way only a bearer of eggs who fully intended on handing the entire clutch off to skekAyuk to be made into breakfast and custard could.

None of them believed him, of course. But then the curve of his stomach rounded out further than it had ever been before. His scent got thicker, sharper, sweeter. And, as much as it pained him to admit it, his waddling got far more pronounced. And _that_ shut them up. Which left him with nothing but the smug satisfaction of being right...that and a belly that did all but rattle like a sack of coinage when he walked.

They were cruel taskmasters, those little eggs. _Such_ fun coming out, but in the meantime, intent on making him hungry and irritable and at the mercy of everyone's jokes about his going broody. They pressed on his bladder. Gave him the most frightful indigestion.

And in the case of this particular clutch, left him so aroused he could scarcely think.

“Thra's sake, are you still going at yourself?” came the familiar hack of his dearest friend.

SkekOk looked up from the plumped blankets and cushions that effectively converted the floor of his favorite reading nook into a makeshift ~~nest~~ place for a Skeksis of his condition to relax away the days, sipping tea brought by the slaves and catching up on his reading. Or, more presently, rolling around with his talons in the air, naked and panting, two claws up his vent and the others stroking frantically away at his erections.

“It's no use! It's an ache is what it is, just a crippling ache...I reach crescendo after crescendo, but it always comes right back, strong as ever!”

“Ahh. I've got a facial soak you might want to try for that.”

“It's not _funny,_ skekLach!” Because at the moment, nothing was. If skekTek had been around, he would have pleaded with the Scientist to reach up into him, cut into him if need be, anything to remove whatever egg seemed to be pressing so insistently and so cruelly on what felt to be the most sensitive areas of his inner passage. “It's never been this strong before. It's like...like I can't get _deep enough_.”

And skekLach thumbed through a book on the table, then set it down just as quickly. Their blemishes were dry today, the scabs healing, but even if they weren't, he would have been in no position to shriek at them to wash their hands before touching his beloved tomes. “Why not use your tail? Or one of your toys?”

SkekOk opened his beak, then closed it. Lost for words and all the more upset for it, settled for blinking helplessly.

“I suppose I could...but...”

“Want me to help you out?”

Absurd as even he knew it to sound, skekOk couldn't help it. He was on the verge of tears. “...I think I just need some care.”

SkekLach dispensed all notions of teasing; just plodded over in their way, and as they knelt beside him skekOk began to feel that things were at last looking up. Their hand dropped between his thighs and promptly, _very_ promptly set him quivering with relief as their talons took up massaging gentle circles around his swollen vent.

“You always get soft down here when you're full of eggs. Did you know that?”

“...Theoretically,” skekOk replied, eyelids drooping in bliss. SkekLach may not have looked the type, but their talons had always been clever and warm. The warmest of anyone he knew.

“It's not a bad look for you, all big and round. You look like you're going to burst any day now.” They parted his legs and he liked it, had always liked it, how much space they took up between them, how wide he had to be spread open to accommodate them. There was a rustle of silks as they pulled their robes aside and he felt it, the welcome brush of their phalluses through his wetness. “I can't imagine what it's like.”

“You've carried.”

“I'm not little.”

SkekOk took no umbrage, never had, nevermind that skekLach was shorter than him. No one had ever given him a reason to resent his stature, and besides, he enjoyed how big skekLach _felt_ just now. Broad, soft, and safe, covering him up; their careful press into his body like a cool poultice on a burn, and so satisfying, so _necessary_ that he couldn't not keen softly.

“ _Oh...oh, skekLach..._ ”

“Deep enough for you?”

“ _Mhmm_...”

And it was. Oh _Thra_ , it was. Like the worst itch of his life being scratched deep and rough and with all four talons. When he stroked his cocks _now,_ it actually felt like it was doing something. And skekLach, bless their heart, knew him – knew how he got when gravid – better than to drag their feet, so to speak. Their shifting to brace themselves on their palms was his only warning, and then, much to his delight, he was being driven into hard, fast, and so very deep.

“ _Ah!_ SkekLach! Don't stop, please...have _mercy_...don't _stop._..”

SkekLach half snorted, half growled above him. “You really _did_ need this.”

SkekOk wanted to reply that of course he did, and how did they think he'd gotten into this state in the first place? He was a vulgar, filthy thing, made to be bred and filled to the brim with eggs, as many as he could possibly hold. The only one in the castle who always succumbed to at least one orgasm during the laying process. The last clutch he'd lay, skekTek had been generous enough to offset the discomfort by slipping a gently vibrating sleeve over his cocks and manually stimulating him through it, and skekOk had devoted the entire term to thinking of a tactful way to ask him to do it again this time around.

But skekOk, beside himself as he was, said none of those things. Just made a noise vaguely akin to a Fizzgig rolling down a modest flight of stairs and bucked up into skekLach as hard as his bulging belly would allow.

It wasn't long before the Collector's growls and hisses began to come rougher, but that was quite alright. As hideously oversensitized as skekOk had been, it was a marvel he'd lasted all of a minute, and skekLach's pounding was melting into the sensation that a phantom thumb was working him right in the bladder.

“Come on... _come on,”_ skekLach snarled in a way that both thrilled and, quite honestly, surprised him. SkekLach wasn't usually much of a talker. “Gonna soften you up even more when I'm done with you. Gonna make you _lay._ ” SkekOk keened and keened, so close he could taste it – “Wanna see you egg-splode.”

And with that, skekOk's tether snapped.

He hit his peak hard and sloppy, babbling nonsense, pouring warm wetness over skekLach's cocks and thighs and soaking some very lovely silks. SkekLach took him right through it, loud and wet and heedless of the mess, and just as he was sliding on into the comedown, filled him with the added slick of their climax.

He could hardly be blamed if he wasn't his usual articulate self in the afterglow. That was fine; skekLach, as they flopped down beside him, wasn't either. The horrid unfulfilled feeling didn't return, and it was all he had any interest in doing – lounging around and basking in the sensation of finally, finally being completely and thoroughly sated.

“Better, I'm guessing?”

“Immensely. Thank you.”

SkekLach patted him on the egg-laden belly.

“...That said...Did you _really_...”

Chalk it up to the fact that his glasses were horribly askew, but he could have sworn he saw skekLach smirk.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”


End file.
